


The only thing left

by TheIceQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brief suicidal thoughts, Crying, Crying Dean Winchester, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotions, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Memories, Men Crying, Past Character Death, The Impala (Supernatural), Whiskey & Scotch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Dean has lost Sam (and everyone else). He's not handling it too well. Not that anyone can blame him.Or: This is what happens when you give a country-girl the prompt 'Whiskey'





	The only thing left

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my SPN Genre Bingo Card, square filled: Whiskey.  
Also HEAVILY inspired by the song 'Parachute' by Chris Stapleton

The dim street lights couldn’t do more against the dark night than show the direction of the road. The pulse of light flaring through the windshield, threw fast-moving images of his hands clutched tight on the steering wheel, over his plaid shirt. The blood, striving to fill the white stressed fingers, pounded in unison with the pain tearing at his chest. 

As the rain on the glass made the shadows in the car blurry, he shivered at the memory of his brother and him running over the parking lot. They hadn’t made it to the car before they were soaked to the skin, but were still in such a hurry that they had knocked their heads together climbing in equally fast from each their side. Not a single muscle moved on his frozen face while the film of the two of them laughing played before his eyes.

The cold from that day took hold of him even now, and he turned up the heat. The rattle of the Legos in the vents kept him company till he arrived back. The windshield wiper did nothing to help him see and only the cloudy street lights kept him on the road till he blinked away the water from his eyes.

Not letting go of the wheel, he just sat there. Turning off the engine would mean turning off the sound of a time where they were both there. If he could take the army man with him, he would. But it was stuck. Everything they had, had always been in that car. A roof over their heads. A place to warm up... Home.

But what is a home without family?

The thought of getting out of the car, pierced shards of glass through his lungs, but staying would surely kill him. Not looking if the window was rolled up on the passenger side, he turned the key and moved quickly out of the car.

He had nothing in his room. Everything was in the car. Everything but the bottle on the table. Soundless, he let himself drop on the only chair in the room and tore the cork of the whiskey. The golden liquid filled his mouth and burned hot down his throat, but did not warm his cold body. For hours, he stared down the bottle clutched in his hands, as if it was the only thing he had left to hold on to.

When he woke up, leaning over the table and still holding the bottle in both hands, his whole body was aching. Not from sleeping on a chair, but aching to get back out there. The sounds, the smells and the feeling of being in that car was calling for every cell in him.

Back on the road his fingers slowly turned white on the wheel. They stayed like that till the shadows drew dark pictures of them on his chest again, and Dean had to leave the memories of Sam behind once more to not drive them and himself off a cliff.


End file.
